Private Lessons
by Walter the Wizard
Summary: Harry had assumed that private lessons with Dumbledore would involve some kind of training. And he was right...in a way.


**Author: **Walter O'Dim

**Title: **Private Lessons

**Category:** Romance/Humor  
**Rating:** M  
**Summary:** In Harry's sixth year Dumbledore decides to take a greater hand in his education – and we aren't talking Horcruxes or any of that crap. Find out what those private lessons were really about…  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Harry Potter

Harry had been looking forward to his first lesson with Dumbledore ever since he received the note telling him the date and time of their meeting. Finally, at eight'o'clock on Saturday he presented himself outside Dumbledore's office and knocked.

"Come in," said Dumbledore's voice.

"Good evening, sir," said Harry, walking into the headmaster's office. Dumbledore was standing at the window looking out at the grounds. He smiled broadly at the sight of Harry.

"Ah, Harry!" he said. "Come in, come in, my dear boy. Have a seat."

And he pointed, not to a chair, but to a cozy sofa that was clearly a recent addition and looked rather out of place in the office.

"I thought it would better suit our…purposes," said Dumbledore with a chuckle, seeing Harry's quizzical expression. "You'll see why soon enough, I think...Now, then," he went on when Harry was seated, "what would you like to drink, Harry?"

"Drink, sir?" Harry said incredulously. "But – I thought we were going to – er -"

"Yes?" prompted Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Well, I dunno - practice some spells or something like that," mumbled Harry.

"The kind of magic we are going to practice tonight doesn't require spells or incantations, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Not on your part, at least. And a drink will not interfere with it at all, I assure you – far from it. So, what would you like?"

"Well, um – how about that oak-matured mead?" said Harry.

"Oh, come on, Harry," said Dumbledore with a laugh, "That mead is for small children. You're almost a man now – surely you'd like to try something stronger?"

"Er -"

"I suggest you try this," said Dumbledore, taking a bottle out of a cabinet. "Chateau Charnel, made in 1875 – an excellent year. Here…" he poured two glasses of wine and went to sit with Harry on the sofa, handing him his glass and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"Cheers," said the Headmaster. They touched glasses and drank.

All of Harry's uneasiness and confusion seemed to vanish in an instant. A wonderful lightness filled his body, and he felt cheerful for no particualr reason.

"Say, this stuff is really good, sir!" he said.

"It is, isn't it?" said Dumbledore with a wink. "That's why I keep it for special occasions…like tonight."

Harry looked at him.

"So, Harry," said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice but with a roguish glint in his eye. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you dur­ing these – for want of a better word – lessons?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. Remembering why he was here sobered him a bit, but he still couldn't help smiling.

"Of course you have," smiled Dumbledore. "Well, you remember, I am sure, the words of the prophecy about you and Lord Voldemort? The part about _the power the Dark Lord knows not_?"

Harry nodded.

"What do you think that power might be?" asked Dumbledore, peering at Harry over the rim of his glass.

"Well," Harry said slowly, "I suppose it is…love, sir."

"You are almost right, Harry," giggled Dumbledore, squeezing Harry's arm. "Almost, but not quite. Being able to love is an essential prerequisite, yes, but it's not love as such that will destroy Lord Voldemort."

"Then what will, sir?"

"Ooooh, Harry," said Dumbledore, setting aside his glass and putting his hand on Harry's knee. "You have a gift so rare that Parseltongue is quite common compared to it. I've never dreamed I'd actually meet such a person. My boy," Dumbledore's voice dropped to a whisper, "you have the power of…_the Mojo_."

"The Mojo?" Harry repeated blankly as the portraits gasped.

"You really ought to read more, my dear boy," chuckled Dumbledore, stroking Harry's shoulder with his thumb. "The Mojo is another name for sexual energy."

"Sexual energy? But – doesn't everyone have -"

"Oh, no, not everyone, and nowhere near as much as you do. You see, sexual energy can be used to reinforce magic; however, most people have too little of it to produce a more or less significant effect, even if they are working in a group. But you are different; within your body resides a dormant power that, if used properly, could destroy half the world, or bring the dead back to life."

"How do you know?" asked Harry, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Sex magic is my speciality, Harry," chuckled Dumbledore. "It is what Voldemort refers to as 'my kind of magic'. By his scorn he is trying to conceal the fact that he is simply incapable of performing it; he is impotent, you see. Anyway, I have known for some years now that you posess this kind of power. And now the time has come for your initiation."

Harry's face was now frantic with anticipation.

"Initiation, sir?"

"Oh, yes…a sort of ritual to wake that power inside you. It will take a lot of training to master it, of course, but -"

"What exactly does the ritual include?" interrupted Harry.

"Guess," said Dumbledore with a grin.

Harry's jaw dropped. "You mean -"

"Exactly, my boy!" cried Dumbledore, slapping Harry's thigh. "Glad you're cottoning on so quickly."

"But, but," spluttered Harry, "aren't we going to need a…a girl?"

"Oh, no," said Dumbledore. "Not tonight. You see – nobody knows exactly why, but the ritual of initiation revolves around a sexual act between two _men_."

"You mean I'm going to have sex with…_you_?" said Harry, aghast.

"That's EXACTLY what I mean, sweetheart," cried Dumbledore, giving Harry a hug. "What's the matter?" he asked, seeing the look of horror in Harry's eyes. "Don't tell me you are against gay sex, because I know you're not; I can read minds, you know."

"Well – it's not that – it's just that I -"

Dumbledore roared with laughter at the sight of Harry's shock and confusion.

"Oh, my dear boy, you didn't think I was going to force you to make love to an unattractive old man such as myself, did you?"

"Well…actually…that's exactly what I thought," mumbled Harry.

"I know," chortled Dumbledore. "Sorry, I just couldn't help scaring you a bit – that look on your face was just wonderful. But worry not, my boy…" Dumbledore took a small bottle from under his cloak and shook it in front of Harry's nose.

"What's that, sir?"

"I want it to be a surprise,"said Dumbledore with a wink. "Close your eyes, Harry."

Harry complied, not without some apprehension. He heard Dumbledore uncork the bottle and take a draught, then some weird sound, and then –

"You may open your eyes now, Harry," said a voice.

Harry did so and leapt to his feet at once. Where Dumbledore had sat a few moments ago, a young man of about eighteen was now sitting. He was tall, lean, had a handsome face and auburn hair. His features looked vaguely familiar…

"Sir?" breathed Harry.

"If you call me 'sir' one more time, I'll hex you, Potter," said the young man, "but yep, it's me."

Harry stared.

"Youth potion, Harry," chuckled the young Dumbledore, tossing the bottle in the air and catching it. "Kindly prepared by Professor Snape. Devilishly tricky to make, and can only be taken very sparingly, but the effect is truly spectacular, as I think you'll agree."

Dumbledore rose and looked himself over.

"I do look ridiculous in these now, don't I?" he said, referring to his magnificent purple robes. He took his wand, touched the robes with its tip, and they vanished at once, revealing a smooth, muscular and completely naked body.

"Wow!" said Harry, in spite of himself.

"Not bad, huh?" said Dumbledore. "Yes, I used to be quite something in my day. A great many young people of both sexes have been seduced by this body…but none of them as special as you, of course."

Dumbledore waved his wand, and Harry's clothes vanished, too, his wand dropping to the floor with a clatter; at the same time, pleasant music began to play. Dumbledore flopped back onto the sofa and spread his arms.

"Well, are you going to just stand there, or would you rather come here and fuck like crazy?" he inquired.

Harry seemed uncomfortable.

"But si- I mean, Albus – the portraits!"

"Oh, those portraits have seen so much that nothing will surprise them anymore," said Dumbledore with a laugh. "Come on, Harry, let's have some fun."

Harry approached the sofa and slid into Dumbledore's embrace. The feel of a strong, young body against his own was so new and so delicious that Harry moaned. The next thing he knew, he and Dumbledore were kissing, devouring each other's mouths. Then Dumbledore was on top of Harry, covering his body with kisses, Harry's hands slithering up and down his back.

"Ooooh!" was all Harry had to say when Dumbledore's amazingly long tongue coiled around his cock.

"Ready for the ritual?" asked Dumbledore after a while from between Harry's legs.

"Hell, yes!" gasped Harry.

Dumbledore turned him over, then jerked him up so that he was standing on all fours. Harry inhaled sharply when he felt Dumbledore's fingertip circle his anus. Dumbledore was saying something in a language unknown to Harry – probably an incantation – and his finger was delving deeper and deeper into the boy (the Headmaster had providently covered it with some sort of lubricant). The finger was soon joined by another. Harry was gripping the sofa so tightly that his knickles turned white; his face was screwed and running with sweat; he was hlaf-moaning, half-growling. When he thought he couldn't take it any longer, Dumbledore finished saying the incantation and removed his fingers.

"DO IT!" roared Harry.

"With great pleasure, Harry," said Dumbledore, and entered him.

Harry thought he was in heaven and hell at the same time – it was that good and that painful. Dumbledore was going faster and faster, and soon both pain and pleasure were dwarfed by a sense of power surging through Harry like an electric current. Dumbledore's silvery instruments and other things began to shake and then started flying around the room (the inhabitants of the portraits fled from their frames for fear of getting hit). Soon the whole room was shaking, as if from an earthquake. Harry and Dumbledore were moaning, growling, howling, clawing, biting, thrashing and thrusting; actually, they looked a bit frightening. When Harry came, the windows of Dumbledore's office exploded; the Headmaster's desk rose into the air and was flung against the wall; Fawkes gave a hoarse caw, fell off of his perch and burst into flame; and many miles from Hogwarts, Lord Voldemort gasped and clutched at his heart.

Harry and Dumbledore rolled to the floor and lay there, panting and frothing like horses after a race.

"Well," Dumbledore said finally, after about five minutes of silence. "That certainly was unlike anything I had ever experienced in terms of sex, and just between you and me, that's saying something."

"I see I've wrecked your office again," said Harry, looking around.

"Yeah…should've locked all those thingies away…well, that's nothing compared to what we've accomplished tonight!"

"Yeah, you know, if Voldemort had been standing there, I think I could've obliterated him with one glance!" Harry said enthusiastically.

Dumbledore laughed and ruffled Harry's hair.

"It's not that easy, Harry…you still have a lot of training ahead of you. I think we'll be using the Room of Requirement from now on, though – one more lesson like this, and my office will lie in ruins."

They both laughed.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, sitting up, "that's it for today. I hope you enjoyed the lesson."

"Oh, that's an understatement, sir," grinned Harry. Dumbledore poked him in the head.

"I told you not to call me 'sir' while I'm like this. Anyway…" Dumbledore waved his wand, and Harry's clothes reappeared on his body, cleansed from sweat and other fluids. The Headmaster handed him his wand and gave him a kiss.

"Well, see you next week, Harry," he said. "I'll inform you of the exact date by note, as before. Incidentally, is there any girl you fancy?"

"Well, I dunno…I used to like Cho Chang…"

"Cho Chang it is, then," said Dumbledore, clapping his hands. "I expect you'll be seeing her next week, too."

"You mean..." Harry's eyes widened. "But…do you really think she'll agree?"

"It is not a matter of agreement, Harry," said Dumbledore with a wink. "When the fate of the wizarding world is at stake, personal considerations should be set aside."

"You know, I think I'm starting to like being the Boy Who Lived," said Harry, and they laughed again. Then Harry turned to leave, but seemed to remember something.

"Wait…what shall I tell Ron and Hermione?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Surely an intelligent person such as yourself can think of something? All right, all right," he laughed, seeing the look of indignation on Harry's face, "I'll save you the trouble. Here…" he twirled his wand, snatched a piece of parchment out of thin air and gave it to Harry. "I've sketched a cover-up story. Some of it's based on facts, but most of it I had to make up. I never knew writing was such hard work."

Harry was met in the common room by Ron and Hermione who had stayed up to hear everything about his first lesson.

"Well?" they demanded eagerly.

"It was fascinating," said Harry. "Dumbledore took me into the Pensieve…"

THE END


End file.
